Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1887-04-14

IL Tor months together. Then it comes
back TO me with redoubled force. |
wonder If there is anything In it?'
"What could she do to your" asked
Lady Stair.
She gathered the pink and white
roses from the hedges as they passed,
and ever afterward the scent of wild
roses and his answer were together In
her mind. EA A
II do not know, l can imagine no
way In which she can harm me, unless
IL is by making Lord Stair dislike me-"
She would never do that" cried Mar
guerite, hastily.
"Lord Stair is cold and quiet, but he
is always just"
"Do you find him cold and quiet?"
asked Captain Este, looking at the
lovely, flushed face.
IL spoke without thinking" she re-
piled.
But the young soldier did not forget
the words. Surely there never was a
spot on earth so fair as this Herons'
POOL They had both good reason to
remember it.
A pool of clear, deep water--so deep
that when the wind rippled the surface
the clear depths were not moved. Just
the beautiful, solitary spot the heron
and the kingtisher both love-silent,
with strange flashes of light on its
breast-silent, with strange CLEANS of
sunshine coming through the great
bows of the trees; fripged with blIe
forget-me- nots, and the meadow-sweet
which grew down to the waters edge.
"Relics of childhood" cried Captain
Este, as he captured two invalid old
stools and made them steady in the long
green grass. '.These are the very seats
brought here ten years ago. Sit
down Lady Stair. Watching this clear
darkling pool always had great attrac-
ton for me-"
They sat side by side--the lovely
warm summer around them--the green
bougLs throwing gaateful shade over
them-the wind stirring the clear wa
ter-the blue forget-me-nots rejoicing
in the sunshine-the meadow sweet
growing at their feet. White star-like
DAISIES studded the grass, the glamour
of summer, with its fragrance and its
song, was on them, and it is much like
the glamour of love. Captain Este told
her the legend of the great tree; then
quite suddenly he changed his theme.
~ our eyes are not all the same blue
as these forget-me- nots, he said. "Blue
is my iavoTite color. | observe that
you always wear blue dresses"
1T is my favorite color" she said:
eve had but one picture in our old
church at install; il was a Madonna,
copied, so rumor said, from one of Fra
Angelica's, q young Madonna, with
beautiful fair face, so pure and sweet,
yet with shade Of sadness in the eyes
as though she saw everywhere the
shadow of the Cross; there is halo of
light round the golden hair, and the
Madonna wears a blue dress. 1t was
certainly from that picture l took my
ideas of dress"
"You would make a beautiful Ma
DONNA" he said, gathering group of
white starlight DAISIES, and holding
them before her.
She shook her head gravely.
mo l have not Madonna's face;
mine is TO restless. / feel always like
person who is waiting or watching
for something which never comes.
There is want in my life and do
not know what it is
He knew, but he did not tell her.
1.-The Madonna's face Is profoundly
sweet and profoundly sad" she con-
tinued: ''mine Is not So"
He thought to himself that she little
knew how profoundly beautiful it was.
''Now l know what your eyes are
like" he cried. Not the blue forget
me-nots, but the purple violets-a rare
color, Lady Stair"
lis it," she asked, curiously. Her
thoughts had gone back to the old
church and the years that dad been
filled with music.
MY mother died." she said to him
"When | was two weeks old | used
to ask my father where she was. 1t
was not often that a human voice seem.
ed to reach him, or that any human
interes. attracted him. but when | asked
that question he would stop and look at
me, then tell me that one June night,
when the roses and the lilies were sigh
ing their sweetest and there was an
uprising of the summer wind, my
mother went up through the stars to
the golden Paradise that les beyond,
and |, when | was child, used TO
watch those stars every night, thinking
| should see her face shining amongst
them"
"Poor child" he said. dreamily, and
the white DAISIES fell from his hand as
he took hers.
81 had strange faDcles," she contin-
ued. Il always thought that picture
of the Madonna, which has been in the
old church of install for hundreds of
years, was the picture Of my mother,
and from that. when ever | dream OF
my mother, | see her with a light
brighter than the stars shining round
her head"
poor child!" he said again, and this
time he bent his handsome head and
kissed the white hand he held.
She was too innocent and too mex
perienced even to blush over it, She
opened her hand suddenly, and held it
out before him.
do you see anything peculiar in my
hand?" she asked.
"No, except that it is perfect in shape
and COLOR" he replied, "and / may be
forgiven if add, that il is the most
beautiful hand have ever seen, and
am good judge"
But do you see anything peculiar
in the linesp" she asked eagerly.
mo; your hand looks like any other
hand. Let me see."
He took the hand, so white, cool. and
slender in his own, and pretended to
look with great eagerness in the pretty
pink palm, She bent her head with
his, tracing with one white finger the
lines that crossed it, telling him what
the old nurse had said. He listened
attentively.
said. "Your fate is bright enough.
h.